This blog chronicles the sex-capades and wild side of my alter ego. Denoted as SHE (my pussy) controls my actions in the boudoir. This is her story. In the mix, you will also find the personal sweet moments between my boyfriend as well as the conflicts that our families, friends & exes add to the scenario.

About Me

Name::Platinum Pussy

From::The Boudoir, Everywhere, United States

This blog tells the tales of my wild side, the erotic, passionate, freaky, crazy side that is SHE. It is sexually explicit, and at the end of the day, it's just a Diary of my Pussy.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

This Morning....

I really did sleep well last night. I love the way he lets me lay my head on his arm and wraps the other one around me tight. If I move in my sleep, he still doesn't let go, just readjusts as if he doesn't want to let me go. I've never slept with someone that could hold me all through the night and I must tell you--it's absolutely divine. I was so warm, so comfortable and felt so loved.

This morning, he woke up early, and was bright-eyed and bushy tailed. "Go away," I muttered as I bundled under the covers. "It's too fuckin' early." Considering we lay talking until 3am last night, I don't know why he's up so early. He doesn't have to be at work until 1pm, so what's the rush? Golly.

He lay still for a few minutes, but I guess it was too hard for him to go back to bed. He ended up geting up and heading to the computer to print out some stuff that he needed for work today. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

He came back around 9am, still bright-eyed and this time had a mission. He wanted an early morning romp. Who was I to deny my man? I have absolutely no complaints in that department, he even got me water to drink after the fact. Gotta love a thoughtful lover. Mmmm.

While he was showering and went ahead and fixed him up some breakfast as well as packed up some lunch for him. We had waffles, veggie links and eggs and it was so....domesticated. I don't think I'm cut out for the Stepford wife thing, but I can tell that when I do get in the mode I really do enjoy it.

We had a leisurely breakfast and he told me that he was worried about going back home. His cell phone had showed 3 missed calls this morning, 2 of them from the same number that he didn't recognize. "She is ok. Her suicidal ass is probably at work as we speak," I told him unfazed. I wasn't sure the last time she tricked out, but this time I'm very sure that she's just being her overly melodramatic self.

He left around 1130, not really wanting to and yet knowing he had to. He was utterly delectable in the sunlight, as the wind played with his curls. "Call me to let me know if psycho bitch is ok," I told him.